


Paint my Portrait, Your Colors Lie

by BookwormyThings



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Gen, a theory about 6x05, bellamy losing it, choking scene, just needed to write it, murphy being reasonable, season 6 spec, weird i know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-03-26 13:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19006783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BookwormyThings/pseuds/BookwormyThings
Summary: Her gait was wrong. She walked with too much swagger, with the wrong type of confidence. She took up too much space and with every step, she announced herself in the wrong tone. Her figure was off, but Josephine could not learn how to physically embody a person so different from her.She only needed to be Clarke long enough for them to see the need for her to be gone.---Season 6 speculation after 6x04!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I had this idea, and I had to write. It was supposed to be a short drabble posted on Saturday, but then this monster of a story came out and it took longer. I tried editing it, but I wanted to post it before the show today, so there may be some errors. Sorry! 
> 
> I cried while writing this for some reason. It's angsty, but I didn't think it would make me cry but there you have it.
> 
> I am still working on The Ghost of Could Have Beens. I just lost a lot of momentum during the semester, and I have been struggling to pick it up. I think there should only be 2 chapters left, so hopefully, with this season being something I am enjoying so much, I'll find some inspiration to finish! 
> 
> Anyway! Please tell me what you think!

Time ticked differently in this new world almost as if a vastness stood between her and everything she knew from her other life. 

Every turned curved in a strange, unfamiliar way. Every face blinked and smiled in such oddity it threw her. Every color dulled in comparison to her memories, yet every vibrancy in the world hurt her as they passed in a brilliance too strong to be experienced by her eyes. 

The sounds…the sounds rang with such clarity every whispered drummed too loudly. They whisked around in the air drowning out all the ticks any clock could sing even the clock of life. 

It overwhelmed her and numbed her all at once. It arrested her and pushed her into action in a way she never dreamed, in a way that felt foreign to her mind but so natural to her body. 

No, that was not right. She knew this feeling. This kind of wonderstruck engulfed her when she first arrived on this planet. It grew inside of her when this piece of paradise was still just Planet Alpha. Before the terror of the first eclipse. Before the terror of death took hold. Before she found life again. Before this restless cycle of life and death and then life once more twisted her into something less than human, twisted her into someone much more unfeeling. Before Sanctum actually became her sanctuary from every idiotic thing tried to end her. 

There may be a residual effect from the occupant of this body before her, but it was hers now. Clarke was dead and she was going to stay that way even if she felt this soft tug at the back of her head, almost like a reminder of the crime her family committed. Almost like this body knew she did not belong here. 

Josephine took one last look of her room before making her way down the stairs to a crowd of complete strangers. She had to convince them Clarke lived in this rather glorious skin. 

A dark-haired girl spoke to the others before turning her attention to the stairs. Everyone peered over at her in a bizarre concoction of disdain and admiration. The same girl said one last thing before walking out the door.

Remember the stories. Remember the blood dripping from her hands. Remember they are looking for peace and happiness. Most importantly, remember their names. 

She stood rather tall with her hip to the side before greeting everyone, “Hey, guys!” 

Eyes blinked and someone said, “Well, someone is chipper this morning. Almost like one day of forgiveness means it all goes away.” 

Josephine bit her tongue to keep from snarking back. Instead, she attempted to focus on an appropriate amount of sass and compassion. She could not find one, so she gave a grimace and walked away toward the bar. 

Her gait was wrong. She walked with too much swagger, with the wrong type of confidence. She took up too much space and with every step, she announced herself in the wrong tone. Her figure was off, but Josephine could not learn how to physically embody a person so different from her. 

She only needed to be Clarke long enough for them to see the need for her to be gone. 

\---

Everything seemed off. 

The silence left in her absence threw him off kilter. Her presence never made him ill at ease. Even at their worst, she never threatened him, never scared him. He may not have understood her every decision, but he could always trace it back in a logical path. He knew her, knew her head and heart. He knew her in ways he forgot and ways he will always remember. 

Now, she moved in strange, sharp lines painting a rather peculiar picture. Six years passed them both and etched on their skin and their souls every second. Yes, six years drew new scars and built new walls, but he thought they were finally tumbling and healing and being honest. 

This new attitude reflected nothing of the unburdening they shared not yet two days ago. Or maybe, this was Clarke without the need for his forgiveness. 

Bellamy realized she did not receive the same forgiveness from the others. Maybe this was a Clarke who did not need forgiveness to find peace. Still, even with the freedom she may or may not have discovered, something in the pit of his stomach yelled at him, told him something was so very wrong. 

It was more than just everyone pushing her further and further away. It was more than just the unrelenting snark she dodged every day. It was more than the guilt of which she appeared to be free. The same guilt which buried her yesterday. 

She trod the line of assurance and arrogance with such flirtation it frightened him. Clarke never walked with this effortlessness as if she never carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. She never stood tall as if her back never broke with the burden of responsibility. She never danced the night without the slightest of thought to anyone. 

Well, she did dance on Naming Day with the doctor. There was still hesitation in her movements. He saw those minor halts as she confronted every decision to move so carefree. She saw the pauses in her smile and the quivers in her laughter. He knew she fought her way to a night of peace. 

There was no fight in her now. All that was left was a casual sense of superiority and a small taste of a cunning—too volatile for it to be the same intelligence Clarke used to save him, to save them all. 

The argument in the background slowly came to the forefront of his attention. 

“Delilah is different! I am telling you something is off about this place.” 

“You were happy with this place when you were getting laid, and now, that you’re dumped, you think something weird is going on?” 

“She didn’t even remember my name! She looked at me like she had never met me like I was nothing to her. She isn’t Delilah anymore. They did something to her. I am telling you.” 

“People get dumped after sex all of the time. It’s not something to start a war over. Trust me! You will live. You just need another girl. I am sure we can find you one somewhere in Sanctum…she may not be as cute, but you did reach pretty high for your first girlfriend.” 

“You believe me, right Bellamy?...Bellamy?”

“Earth to Bellamy! Oh, wait, Clarke burned Earth down to a crisp for a second time, so…Sanctum to Bellamy!” Pause, “Huh, I really thought that was going to work.” 

He heard his name and a witticism meant to elicit a chuckled reprimand. His eyes stayed glued to the retreating figure with Clarke’s face until his voice found a way out of his throat, “Do you think something is wrong with Clarke?” 

Jordan huffed, “No, something is wrong with Delilah! Have you not been paying attention?” 

Bellamy turned to say, “No, I’m serious. Doesn’t she seem off to you?” 

Murphy rubbed his temple saying, “Float me! Not you too!” 

Bellamy breathed, “Come on, did any of us see her after the naming ceremony? She was gone all night. You don’t think that marginally suspicious?” 

Utterly exasperated, Murphy threw his hands in the air, “No! Russell probably gave her special access to some secret party none of us knew about because she’s royalty here. He probably fed her some story about how much of hero she is and how all the murder she committed doesn’t count here or something.” 

Stern and fatherly, only one word had to be said to straighten Murphy’s back and stop all his jokes escaping his mouth. Bellamy growled his name, “Murphy.” 

Jordan inserted himself again, “Yeah, like Delilah. They both have been super weird since Naming Day. And, they both have black blood. Don’t you think that’s something to look into?”

Murphy peeked over to the bar and simply saw a pretty blonde having a drink with a cute boy sitting awfully close to her. He signed, “Dude, Clarke’s just getting laid. We don’t need to start a war because of your jealous.” 

Bellamy wanted to deny every little thing. He wanted to say jealous played no part. He wanted to say his head was dictating everything, that his heart was safely tucked away from this whole affair. But he knew he would be telling a lie. So, he settled for a half-truth, “It’s not jealousy. I just don’t want anyone else I love to suffer. If Russell did something to Clarke, don’t you think we owe her to do something about it?” 

After the question was asked, a giggle could be heard the room. As they all moved their heads toward the sound, they caught Clarke’s flirty smirk and a slight twirling of her hair. She placed a hand a man’s forearm as she whispered something into his ear. Her lips hovering so closely it sent shivers down the spines to any and all onlookers. 

Murphy ate all his previous sentiments as he asserted, “Yeah, okay, that’s weird. She’s being a weirdo.” Puffing to show his resistance to the idea, he agreed, “I can’t believe this…what’s the plan?” 

Jordan perked up, “You believe me, now?” 

“Well, kid, I’m already going to hell, so might as well have some fun here before I call it quits for real.” 

Pulling a piece of paper out, Jordan began dishing out what he knew so far, “I couldn’t get a lot of information by myself without looking super suspicious, but I was able to get some stuff. Clarke was last seen by Bellamy at the party with Cillian, right? None of us had seen her since until the following afternoon. She also has been with Russell a whole lot.” 

Taken aback, Bellamy rose his hand, “Jordan, not that I’m not glad to see all this, but why do you have all this information about Clarke if you thought Delilah was the one being strange?” 

“I was going to ask Clarke for help. My mom and dad always made it seem like she was the one with all the good plans, so I was going to tell her everything about Delilah, but then she started hanging out with Russell and then I remembered what Millar said how it wasn’t good that Clarke was a nightblood. I thought maybe whatever happened to Delilah could happen to Clarke. I was hoping to track her movements to catch them in the act, but if you think that she’s already weird.” 

Murphy said, “Can we go back to the plan?” 

“Oh, yes! I know that there are twelve primes to represent the four original families. To have a Naming Day, you have to have the royal blood, people with the royal blood have been getting more and rarer. Delilah and Rose were the last pair. No one with nightblood has been born in the last 10 or so years.” 

Murphy chilled at the thought of Clarke being taken by whatever happened to all the people on Naming Day. Despite all the anger burning through him, his heart resigned to the love he felt and the harm she inflicted him and he inflicted her. This mutual destruction they always seem to cause one another. Their love mingled with pain and blood. It was the kind of love only a cockroach could have for another cockroach. 

Bellamy said, “You think they wanted Clarke for this ceremony.” 

Jordan, the most serious any of them had seen him, frowned, “I think that the reason they let us stay is that they realized we had people with black blood. I think that if they find out there could be more out there.” 

“Well, where do we start?” 

Jordan took out a map, “The tunnels. I asked around about the building where they took Delilah for the ceremony. Apparently, it’s the center for this tunnel system made out of caves. We need to get in there to see exactly what they did to them, so we can figure out how to reverse it.” 

Not wanting to bring bad news, Murphy could not stop them from slipping out his lips, “That is if we can reverse it.” 

Bellamy clenched his jaw and narrowed his eyes as his voice lowered in all aspects especially warmth, “We will. I won’t let them keep Clarke.” 

\---

The brightness of the outdoors rarely shined into the motor shop. Darkness helped him think, helped him removed himself from every life he lived and every life he stole. Something changed, little by little, his willingness to adapt to a new face, a new body shifted. He recognized tradition and appreciated the rebirth. 

How many people crave a second chance and are never given one? 

Here, he was reborn with all his past memories, all his past lives ingrained in the coding of his being. Here, he did not have a second chance but he had a third and fourth and fifth and sixth and seventh. Somehow, even those were not enough. 

His mind wandered toward Raven Reyes. Her aggressiveness stemmed in her intelligence. She was all hard lines and ragged edges. She was as battle-worn as he was life-worn. Something about her and her people tipped the scale. He could feel it in the air after the eclipse. Everything about Sanctum trembled in their presence. 

He trembled in her presence. 

All of this beauty emerged in one person like an epiphany. She held answers in her mind to long-forgotten questions. Her people tipped the scale, still unsure what side they were on. But, whatever they decide, they were sure to win. 

She was someone he wanted to know but felt ashamed in his desire. She wanted to know who the person before Ryker. He could not give that to her. 

His mother sighed bringing him out of his thoughts into his reality, back to the darkness he used as a distraction for so long, “Ryker…are you still working on that bike?” 

Unmoving, he acknowledged her with a simple word, “Yeah.” 

“Son, we have to go to the meeting with Russell. He has news to share and he wanted to celebrate my return.” 

“I wasn’t planning on attended some fancy dinner to see Russell and Simone talking about how wonderful Sanctum is and how great we are for letting these new people come into our home. I don’t feel like celebrating something that just seems like the decent thing to do.” 

Priya exhaled and ambled her way toward her son. Placing a hand on his shoulder to stop his work, she willed him to look at her—her face too young and her hair too loose for her to appear like his mother. She knew the struggle. His body was too tall and firm, his eyes too green. 

“Do you not want to celebrate the return of your mother? Is that not worth a few hours mingle with actual people instead of all these machines?” 

Closing his eyes, he stumbled through a semblance of an apology, “Mother, I didn’t…” 

“I know. I know. It will take some getting used to, but we will get there. We always do.” 

“I’m not entirely convinced we should.” 

Her breath hitched and she reached out to cradle his face—older than hers but her touched carried the wisdom of any mother, “Are you not happy to see your mother?” 

Cover her hands with his, he stood saying, “Of course I am! That’s not what I meant. I just mean that…I don’t what I meant.” Dejected, he softly murmured the rest of his thought, “Maybe you’re right. It’s just weird to see you with her face. I knew Delilah. I spent some time at the bar.”

Her thumb caressed his cheek before placing a gentle kiss to his forehead mimicking what she had done to comfort him in all their lives. Her lips were different, too full, but that smile, that smile remained the same. In all their lives, he could always see her smile with the kindness of his mother no matter the face—hers or his. 

Her voice echoed the same tenderness of the small instance they shared, “I know it will take some time, but we will get there. I promise…Now, go change. You know how Russell gets about these things. I laid out a nice shirt I think you should wear. Go. I’ll wait for you here.” 

He went and he wore the shirt she chose. They walked together never talking. They entered the large dining room with a feast laid out before them. He mingled with the other primes as was expected of him. He lingered near his mother trying to see any remnants of the woman Delilah was. He saw nothing left of her sweet nature. 

It all went like it always did until Clarke walked into the room except something was off. She sauntered in. She commanded the crowd in a dangerously familiar way. Then she spoke.

It was a simple greeting, a mere hello. But he knew. He knew what they had done, and he grew sick. Taking the lives of those who were willing was part of the ritual. Clarke would not have been willing. 

They announced Josephine’s rebirth with such delight. They explained they would use this host to find more black bloods. They apologized for skipping the line, but how they knew Josephine would be up for the challenge in a way no other would be. 

He heard no more. He finished the night unknowingly playing the part required of him. He moved subconsciously until he saw blonde hair whip passed him. 

He found his voice, “Josephine! What have you done?” 

She turned eyes big but with a response ready, “I did nothing. I didn’t choose this host. My father chose for me, but I’m glad he did.”

“She isn’t one of us! She shouldn’t have been selected. This goes against all of our traditions.” 

“Come on, Ryker! You have your body. I have mine. What does it matter how we got them! We are the primes, hallow be our names. I deserve this. We deserve this.” 

As she turned to leave, he grabbed her arm and forced her to look at him, “She was an innocent person looking for a safe place to live.” 

Josephine scoffed, “No one is innocent least of all her. Besides, what she wanted was peace. We gave her that. I gave her that.” 

“What you gave her was death, Josie!” 

“I deserve to live! That’s what she gave me. She gave me life, another chance. I am not going to waste it just because you think you have the moral high ground. You don’t, Ryker. Your host is just as dead as mine.” With a smirk in place, she ended her rant, “At least, I know the name of my host. Do you? Do you know anything about the person whose body was given to you? I know her story. I know where she came from and where she wanted to go. I know she was smart and determined and god, damn was she hot.” 

She loosened his grip and twisted her hair around her finger, “I haven’t been this hot since my original body. You better believe I am about to have some amazing fun.” 

Ryker was left with the same questions as before but a new resolve. 

Seven chances. This was his seventh chance. He could emulate all his other lives. He could spend it in the darkness he created for himself surrounded by the machines to which he has grown so accustomed. The same routine of living a life he should not have. Or, he could break this rusted curse and fix the system. 

So, enthralled by his own anxiety, he missed a very small detail. As Josephine spoke, something flickered behind her eyes. It contorted into something different, someone else.  
He did not miss the way she stumbled out of the hall. Hands immediately to her temples as she confronted the very determination and cleverness she just so praised. 

He made his way toward her, “Josie, you okay?” 

Snatching herself away from his grasp, she firmly declared, “I’m fine. I’m still just getting used to this new body. And this new body is getting used to being here on Sanctum.” 

She left him with a new question on his mind as her head throbbing as a reminder of the heart still beating inside of her. 

\---

The thing no one told her about death was the pain she would encounter. Her whole nervous system raged with every little tweak. No matter how slight the movement, her body felt the fire of the death wave over and over again. 

Hell hurt her more than she imagined it would. 

She begged for it to stop the flames, to her skin from melting. She begged for a moment’s rest. Once the heat of her death vanished, she begged for it to come back. 

Because once she was able to open her eyes, all she saw was the trail of bodies she left behind her wake. All she saw was Mount Weather oozing and withering in her mistake. All she saw was everything she caused on the ground. 

All the misery. All the destruction. All the war. All the death. All of it just piled before her, mounting so high it crushed her screams. 

She knew how it went. She woke in the white room seeing Monty on the other side. She broke out of the room and attacked poor Maya. Dante confronted her. She found Anya. She escaped. She killed Finn. She negotiated with Lexa. She saved Raven She sent Bellamy into the mountain. She lost everything. 

Each time, the same story played in such perfection she began to resign herself to the misery of her torment. Every detail was always the same over and over again. Until something diverged from the path. 

Instead of Anya, she saw her father wrapped in the same white linen. His eyes as blue as the last time she allowed herself to dream of him, to think of him without the shame she recognized he held. Here, the blue twinkled with the same mischievous compassion which rocked her to sleep every night when she was a younger, much more innocent girl. 

“Dad.” Her voice swept over him. It was so small and pained, barely a whisper of astonishment. 

Arms open, Jake welcomed her without hesitation and she ran. “Oh, kiddo. It’s so good to see you. How are you doing? The last time we had this talk you were doing so great. You doing better now?” 

Ajar, her mouth formed no words. Thoughts raced, but her tongue stuck to the bottom of her mouth and refused to move. Frozen in its place as if frightened of the truth. Maybe her father still loved her this way because he did not know what she became. Maybe she could stop carrying her sins for this one moment. 

But, like all moments, it ended. 

She choked out, “It’s so hard. It’s been so hard. No matter what I do…people…people die. They die. I killed them because I’m not good enough. I can’t get it right. I’m just the bad guy.” 

“Oh, baby, that’s not true.” 

Much more frantic and no longer in chokes, she cried these broken, dry sobs, “I’m the bad guy pretending to be sorry, pretending to learn from my mistakes. But I don’t. I can’t. They look at me and all they see is this…this monster of a person. All they see is Wenheda. And I want to blame. I want to yell and scream how they made me this, but I…I can’t. Because a part of me doesn’t regret any of those choices because it saved their lives…but maybe, I could have saved more. If I was smarter, better. If I wasn’t so bad.” 

Cradling her face, he almost chuckled at her earnestness but his heart clenched at the sight of her aching with this truth she firmly believed. He said, “People were going to die. It was part of the life you were given, but that isn’t your fault. Oh, kiddo, you are so much more innocent than you think. You just got to let yourself remember. Break yourself free of the guilt that isn’t yours to bear.”  
Just as she was about to speak again, the wall behind him dissolved and he flew out with love lingering on his lips. 

“No! Come back. Please come back” 

She sunk to the floor with sobs no longer dry ringing in the air, “Please…I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’ll be better. Just come back.” 

And it started again with the white room, the suspicion, the escape, the betrayal. Monty. Maya. Dante. Finn. Lexa. Raven. Bellamy. Never her father. Over and over again. 

So, she begged for her death, for the flames, she associated with hell, because Clarke Griffin was a master of her own agony but she could never handle someone else’s. 

\---

Getting in through the front door was impossible but getting blueprints of the architecture was relatively easy. The tunnels were connected and as long as you had a map, you could find your way. 

Bellamy pointed to the area near the bar, “We can use this building to access the tunnels and make our way east toward that building. It should be right under the room the ceremony took place if Jordan’s intel is right?” 

Offended, Jordan said, “It’s right! I spent the last two days talking to everyone I can and asking about the process. We wouldn’t be this close without me.” 

With a loud pat on Jordan’s pat, Murphy congratulated him, “Good job, kid. You get a gold star on your homework. Now, can we get back to the work we have to get done.”

Bellamy shook his head, “Behave. The both of you. We need to go soon before people get accustomed to seeing us places. Right now, people don’t know us well enough, so if they don’t see us, they may assume we are back at our ship. Murphy and I will go into the tunnels. Jordan, I think you need to be our lookout.” 

Jordan protested, “No…you need me.” 

Hand up to stop him, Bellamy countered, “You’re actually friendly, Jordan. People won’t be surprised if you start talking to them. And we might need you to talk as a distraction. You being out and mingling won’t throw anyone off. If I do it or if Murphy does, it would be much more suspicious.” 

“Aren’t we already a little suspicious? You know meeting like this.”

Bemused, Murphy said, “Didn’t think I would say this, but the kid’s right. We have been huddling in the back corner of a tavern. They have to be the dumbest people to not think this is just a little fishy.” 

Bellamy highlighted a route, “I already mentioned it to Russell that some of us are getting a little stir-crazy. He gave me the map as a sign of good faith, so we can take some of our people into exploring.” He glanced up at them, “If anyone asks, that’s what we’re doing. We are planning a small expedition mission to scout the surrounding area to build a similar system they have here.” 

Perching himself on his knees, Murphy gave a crooked grin, “Well, that’s settled. When do we head out?” 

“Be ready this afternoon. Clarke is meant to have a meeting with Russell and all the other primes about housing. That’s when we will make our move.” 

In synchronicity, all three men twisted their forms to catch Clarke moving toward them. She waved before heading straight past them and to a bar stool where she chatted with a young man. Both of their eyes sparkled and Clarke’s hand rested on his upper thigh. 

A message was sent. 

Murphy pushed himself up, “I’ll be right back.” 

He manoeuvred himself to be able to interject himself between her and the other guy, “Hey, barkeep! I would like a Jo Juice.” 

“Hey, man, do you mind?” 

Sneaking a look, Murphy shrugged, “Nah, I don’t mind per se, but I could use more space, so if you could beat it…” He paused to give the other man time to feel in his name. Nothing came, so he continued, “Look, Clarke and I have things to discuss, so can you finish that somewhere else?” 

Stepping in, Clarke reached behind Murphy to ease the tension growing, “Tomas, can you give us a minute?” The smile on her face was sweet and easy. It captured the wrong picture of the beautiful women she clearly was. Clarke had always been quite the sight, even Murphy could admit it, but her lips never lifted with such sauciness. 

An invitation hid in that sweet smile, an invitation of a rather promising afternoon and even more promising evening. Clarke’s face never did any of it even on her best days. Not with Finn. Not with Niylah. Not with Lexa. Not with Bellamy. 

Once alone, it all fell into a scowl, rather deadly, before sighing, “Can I help you?”

“What are you doing?” 

“I was trying to get a date for tonight, but after your little stunt, it’s safe to say that’s over.” 

“Really, Clarke…this is what you’re doing. And with that guy. Come on, you can do better.” 

Snapping, she stared right at him, “Yes, with that guy. Now, what do you really want, Murphy?” 

Eyeing her reaction (nothing but annoyance), he said, “If you tell anyone this, I will deny it. But I wanted to check on you. We haven’t had a real chance to talk about the eclipse, and while it changes nothing, I don’t want that guilt on my conscience. I have enough damning me to hell.”

Something flashed over her face. It happened rapidly, so rapidly Murphy almost missed it. A gratitude-laced sadness crossed her features before stoniness took control. It calculated an angle with which to attack. 

She said, “Not all of us are as unfeeling as you are, Murphy. I don’t know if you can tell, but I have a lot of baggage. I wanted to have a nice guy take me out and take me home, so I wouldn’t have to be alone, but you ruined that. So, thanks. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go to a meeting with Russell with this huge headache.” 

Gazing after her, Murphy stepped off the bar stool once she was out of sight. Once he rejoined Bellamy and Jordan, he plotted himself on a chair and cursed, “Well, Clarke is definitely not Clarke, so yeah, something weird is going on here.” 

“Let’s go then.” 

Jordan wished them luck before heading to speak with Raven briefly. Bellamy and Murphy exited the bar and went straight for the tunnels. 

They did not speak, not until they had been walking for almost an hour, not until they reached the center point of the tunnels, not until all the skeletons came into full view. 

Jaws dropped; they weaved their way through all the collected skeletons proudly displayed. Silence mirrored the ambience of the room, dimly lit and rather well-groomed. 

Murphy broke it all with a single truthful snide, “Do you think they thought the whole skeletons in your closet thing was literal? Because I mean…they could give even Clarke a run for her money.” 

Tightening his jaw, Bellamy said, “We need to leave. Who’s still in the city?” 

“Jordan, Abby, Raven, Echo, you and me. Emori stayed behind on the ship to help with some repairs.” 

Nodding, Bellamy said, “We need to get as many of them out as we can. We’ll mask it under the expedition mission. Abby might be the hardest. I’ll try to get Clarke.” 

“No way, man! Let Jordan be in charge of gathering everyone. I’m not letting you confront Russell and his band of merry crazies alone.” 

Accepting Murphy’s rebuttal, Bellamy nodded and started existing. 

Murphy took one final look and murmured, “What the hell is this? What did you do, Clarke?” He jogged to catch up with Bellamy.

They wasted no time filling in Jordan who jostled to reach everyone. Bellamy and Murphy marched to the mansion with a single goal in mind. 

A man towering over them guarded the entrance, “Where do you think you are going?” 

Unfazed, Bellamy stepped right in front of him, “We have a meeting with Russell, so please move or I will move you.” 

As still as he was before, Murphy intruded, “He will move you, so let’s not make a scene. Just let us in.” Still nothing. “We’re talking to Russell about the housing situation for our people. We can’t keep going back and forth to the ship and the village, so we are going to discuss a possible expedition into new territory with some support from Russell. So, can you…” 

With that explanation, the guard stepped aside and allowed them to walk into the building. 

Out of earshot, Murphy seethed, “What the hell, man! Are you trying to get us killed?” 

“No one I love is going to die.” 

Murphy halted and stammered, “Wow, you finally admitted it to yourself. Congratulations, Bell! We should go out to celebrate after this.” 

“Murphy!” 

“Right, sorry. We have a mission. Let’s go rescue Clarke or whatever.” 

They found Russell with Simone and Clarke in a rather open space. All the other primes pooled into the hall as they left them alone. Ryker lingered before trailing behind Delilah. 

Bellamy announced himself, “Russell, I wanted to talk about the expedition we discussed yesterday.” 

Russell glimpsed at Clarke before smiling, “Absolutely, Simone.” 

With her gone, Bellamy hardened, “I am being extremely calm, and for me to stay this calm, I want honest answers. So, Russell, what did you do?” 

Taken aback but hiding it well, Russell’s smile did not falter, “What do you mean?” 

Fist twitching on either side of him, Bellamy repeated his question, “What did you do to Clarke?” 

She took one step saying, “Bellamy, I don’t understand. I’m right here and I’m fine. I promise you; Russell did nothing to me.” 

Murphy attempted to swallow his snark and failed, “I’m sorry, but do we look like idiots. You did a pretty good job of selling this paradise schtick you have going but we found the skeletons in your closet. Literally! And trust me, you don’t want to piss Bellamy off even more. So, just answer his question. Also, it’s supposed to be a metaphor.” 

“Murphy, that’s not important.” 

Exasperated, Murphy said, “Maybe not to you, but it’s important to me that they know that. It’s important to me that you know this. It’s supposed to be a metaphor. No real skeletons should be in anyone’s closet.”

The concern on her face twisted into disgust in a blink, “Well, being her is exhausting. She sounds like a total bore. How can someone with this much great cleavage be such a stick in the mud, I will never understand.” 

Even more confused, Bellamy’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?” 

Russell strained, “Clarke.” 

Rolling her eyes, everything about her changed. Her voice rang cold, “What! I’m tired of being her. She’s all gloomy and filled with this guilt and people treat her like absolute trash. I’m done! I want to have some fun.” She spun around with such smugness Bellamy wonder how it took him two days to notice the difference, “Look at me, Dad. Don’t I deserve some fun?” 

Murphy pointed his finger in the air, “Um…excuse me. Did you just say 'dad'?” 

Russell sighed, “I know this is difficult to understand, but we are so grateful for you. You have to understand; what Clarke gave us is the world’s most beautiful gift. She gave a father his daughter back. I am forever in her debt. One I will never be able to repay.” 

Bellamy stirred. Parts of him vibrated with fury, with this unregulated anger begging to be released in powerful punches. He seethed in a deadly quiet. Voice almost in a snarl, he asked, “How do we reverse it?” 

Blinking, Russell said, “You can’t. Her sacrifice means the world to me, Bellamy. It is why I will look the other way. I understand what it means to lose someone you love. That kind of hurt takes time to heal, but you will recover. You will recover your happiness, your peace, the way I recovered my Josephine.” He bravely moved forward toward him, “Clarke wanted peace. And I finally gave that to her. Rest easy now, knowing her fight is finally over.” 

His words of comfort, no matter how well intended, peeled away whatever resolve Bellamy held. He leapt forward and found his hands on Russell’s neck. They struggled, but Bellamy’s strength fortified by sorrow won in the end. He heard Josephine’s pleas to let him go in a voice not quite like Clarke’s and Murphy’s suggestions about not starting a war. Despite either of them, Bellamy kept on it until he felt Russell go still and fall to the floor. 

Josephine yelped, “You idiots!” 

She attempted to run to her father, but Murphy latched himself on to her. She pulled and pushed, but Murphy’s grip remained firm. 

“You won’t get away with this! She’s dead! She’s dead and you could have lived your life here with her face still with you. But now you will get nothing! Clarke died for a great cause, and now she’s still dead but it’s all in vain.” 

Bellamy looked her in the eyes, the only part of Clarke he never forgot. He had trouble remembering her voice, the color of her hair, how she smelled. But her eyes, even as time circled around and everyone around him only saw her in hazy dreams, he could see her eyes in complete clarity. 

These were not her eyes. 

“I’m going to get her back. Do you hear me, Clarke? I won’t leave you behind again. Not here, not ever. I’m going to get you back. I need you to come back to me. So, you better fight this from your side, okay.” 

Tugging, Josephine yelled, “Let go of me. Let go. She’s dead and gone. There is nothing left of her but me.” A pause occurred before a scream, “Urgh!” 

And then nothing but a limp body in Murphy’s arms. 

They both looked up to see Ryker with a small gun. He had a pleased grin, “It’s the paralytic. And before you say anything, don’t worry. No one saw me and no one will see you. I got Simone in the back and there were only 2 guards who just let me in.” 

Bellamy narrowed in, “Why are you doing this?” 

Stepping inside the room, he said, “Not everyone believes in the primes. And even if I did, what happened to Clarke goes against our traditions. They’re supposed to be willing. She wasn’t.” He handed them a piece of paper and a tube, “This is the code to get out of the dome and that’s the antidote. I think there may be a chance she’s still in there, and if there is, you’re going to need the Children of Gabriel.” 

Bellamy took it. 

“Take the tunnels. There’s an entrance at the end of this hall. Keep to your left about 450 feet there’s a fork. Take the right. It should take you right to the harvest. I already told Raven to keep a lookout for when the shield goes down.” 

Murphy interrupted him, “What about you?” 

Another sparking smile, Ryker said, “I’m a prime. We tend to get away with stuff, and then Russell broke the rules. Josephine was third in line. Miranda’s angry. I’m sure I can convince the rest of us this is good.” 

Bellamy extended his hand, “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me yet. She’s not back. Good luck.” 

Off they went. They followed Ryker’s instructions to the letter. As soon as they were to the keypad, chaos boomed in the village. The shield went down and they crossed it, all of them. Clarke’s body stayed motionless with her eyes peering into them, into Bellamy. 

All the lines were wrong. The colors were colder, duller. Josephine created a terrible replica of the woman Clarke was. This cheap imitation fooled him, fooled all of them. How he did not know. 

He picked her up and look toward Murphy who in turn spotted the ship landing fifty or so feet from them. “We should regroup. Fill everyone in about what happened. Then we find the Children of Gabriel.” 

Shifting her, he attempted to trek toward the ship, but Murphy stopped him with a hand on his upper arm, “Man, you solid?” 

Shutting his eyes, he gulped before responding, “I will be. Once we get her back. We get Clarke back and everything is going be okay.” 

Nodding, they carried her between the two of them.

\---

The repletion never eased the hurt. Nothing ever made it better. Not until she heard a voice asking her to come back. Telling her she was needed. Promising her freedom.

Despite the agony and the hurt and all bone-tired misery consuming her, she stood for once remembering him, remembering her, remembering all of them. Breathing—in and out—she cried, “You can’t have me. Not yet! I need to see him again. I need to tell him.” 

Because she was breathing and he was too. And there was hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, now they have Josephine, what's next?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be up weeks ago, but it became a thing. A 15-page long thing that I just could not contain. I stopped simply because I couldn't take it anymore. I need this to be out there. I am sorry for the mistakes. I tried my best to proofread, but editing has never been my forte. 
> 
> Anyway, please leave a comment and share this story! 
> 
> Happy Show Day!

His throat still stung with each breath, yet the memory of the bruises shading his throat strung even more. 

Right now, he faced the line of primes waiting for a reaction, his reaction to everything. Waiting for them to end his misery the way Josephine ending Kaylee. Waiting for them to decide the next logical step. Waiting for them to realize they may have lost the only things keeping them alive. 

He waited and waited and waited until his head lulled to the sides heavy with all the anticipation and every thought blazing and burning through his brain. He could not wait any longer, but the voices melded together. It was so difficult to keep it all straight when he could barely breathe and his head pounded. 

“What are we going to do with him?” 

“I can’t believe we are having this conversation.” 

“He can’t go on unpunished. He allowed strangers into our home knowing they could be the answer to our situation, and he abused that knowledge to bring back his daughter. Clarke should have been Jasmine! She was next in line.” 

“He explained why he did it. Jasmine is a wonderful girl, Miranda. But she is no spy! We all know Josie would have been better suited to find more hosts. Still, he broke the sacred tradition.” 

“Consent was the only thing keeping us from being…God knows what awful thing. He shouldn’t have taken her. If he hadn’t, they would still be here. For that, he needs punishment. We can’t have Russel taking whatever he damn pleases!” 

“He’s the reason we are all here! Without him, you would all have been forgotten. You would have been nothing.” 

“Simone, we understand he is your husband much like we understood how breaking the rules for Josephine seemed reasonable, but Russel…he did something he shouldn’t have.” 

“You should all be grateful. Without him, we would be gone.” 

Leaning in the corner, Ryker finally joined the conversation, “If that is all it takes for forgiveness, then why do we hate Gabriel so much? I mean he was the one that figured it out in the first place, so…technically, we wouldn’t be here without Gabriel.” 

“Ryker!” 

He pushed himself off the wall and strode toward the rather small collective, “What, mother? It’s the truth. We hate him because he no longer wanted us to keep taking lives, so we could keep living. And, now, we are arguing over or not Russel crossed a line because the life he took wasn’t willing. But, let’s be honest, the only reason anyone has ever been willing is because we have convinced them that we are some sort of deities instead of the scientists we are supposed to be.” 

“What are you saying?” 

Looking at all of the faces he should recognize, he knew this may be the last life he would ever get, “I am saying that whatever they decide to do…we may deserve it.” He gazed over at Russel attempting to stand as tall and regal as always, “We may finally see our end, but don’t you think we have lived long enough. Not that my opinion is going to matter, because they are going to come back and ruin us. I mean after they get Clarke back.” 

Priya stepped through her peers to reach her son, “Ryker, what are you saying?” 

Russel cleared his throat, “He is saying what I told you. We needed to be careful because they burned through their last world and now, they will burn this one. It’s why Josie was supposed to be the one to figure it out. But something went wrong.”

“Yeah, they are much smarter than you thought and you messed up by taking Clarke without her permission. Consent is key, right Russel?” 

Simone stepped in, “It was now or never. They wouldn’t understand, and given the Children of Gabriel, they had no reason to tells us if they had people with black blood.” 

“Or, maybe they would have if they were given a chance, but we don’t know. And we never will now that we’ve taken their leader. You could not have been dumber.” 

Standing tall now, breaths still burning, Russel defended himself, “You have no idea what is going on Ryker. Even if they have Josie now. You and I both know Josephine will come back to us.” 

“She won’t.” 

Miranda turned to look at Ryker with her eyes wide and confused, “What do you mean?” 

“Clarke’s still in there, and she’s going to get out. When she will, are you ready to face whatever that means? Because I’m ready for whatever comes.” 

The silence grew and told him they may not be as ready to leave life behind as he was. 

\---

It was too quiet. 

Every breath banged in her head as the throbbing got worse and worse. Her hair stuck to her neck as she sweltered. Something was very wrong with her. Something was very wrong with them. Everything was off by less than margin but just enough to make her sick. 

And, it was all too damn quiet. 

“Can someone say something! This silence is just too much. I mean I am all for the dramatic reveal, but you bitches have even ruined that.” 

Her voice grabbed Raven out of her stupor and settled her into reality. She just could not believe the story Bellamy and Murphy and Jordan told her. Clarke was not dead. She was in front of her. There was no way. Everything about this planet was supposed to bring them peace and joy and something worth the loss of all those she left and left her. If this were true, she knew nothing. And Clarke was gone and still here, a juxtaposition too strong for her to handle. It knocked her on her side and no air was left in her lungs. 

Josephine wore Clarke’s face rather well. She looked as beautiful as ever, blonde hair loose and blue eyes shining. Even with her aggravation drawn in her frown, she was a sight to see as always. 

Raven loathed that about Clarke. It was just another thing she had over everyone else. Without much effort, Clarke Griffin captivated the world and everyone in it. Then, she dared to be smart in a sharp, unsettling way, in a way that shaped history to her whim. Clarke possessed everything needed to become a legend. 

A brave, beautiful girl, all golden-haired and golden-hearted, unafraid of the darkness fought her way into mythology. She became the story people tell at night to encourage others to pursue greatness and to warn them of the dangers lurking when one gets to close to the sun. 

Luckily for Clarke, her black blood helped with any of the burns. 

Despite her rather perfect face, something was off. Her frown was cutting and her eyes were hollow. Her lips twisted much too easily, and the blue twinkled much too dark. Her voice was half a pitch off, while every word felt awkward to all those listening. 

Raven did not want to believe it, but every breath proved them more right. Clarke Griffin and all her impossibilities died when Raven was not looking. She died when Raven was nothing more than a bitter, angry version of the friend Clarke had. She died when Raven left her alone.

Guilt crept its way as it always did and Raven crushed it with self-righteousness. 

Now, they surrounded a foreign, familiar Clarke tied to a wall, déjà vu present in every moment. Raven knew this feeling. They all knew this feeling. 

She spoke directly to her pretty face, “Can you please shut it? We are thinking.” Directing it to Bellamy and Murphy, she continued, “You said Ryker thinks Clarke’s still in there. How do we get her out?”

“Ryker is an idiot who wants to get into your pants. You really shouldn’t believe a word he says.”

Murphy snarks, “Well, every one of us has thought about getting into Raven’s pants. Bellamy actually did! Can’t really blame the guy. And, anyway, we aren’t actually known for being geniuses. I mean we did blow up our planet and barely noticed that Clarke was gone, sooooo…”

“Murphy stop talking.”

Josephine’s grin popped the tension again, “No, please continue. Tell me more.” 

Bellamy attempted to draw attention to himself. He extended his shoulders and crossed his arms. He was fierce and ferocious, “Ryker told us something was different about you. That he believed Clarke could be brought back. You’re going to help us.”

Unmoved, Josephine simply stared, “You don’t get it. Clarke is gone. You neglected her long enough for my parents to sneak in and snatch her right from under your noses. They didn’t even think you would notice. Tension, they said. You had a lot of tension.”

Raven clenched her teeth and flared her nostrils, “Shut up. You don’t even know what you’re saying. You don’t…”

“I don’t…what…understand. Maybe I don’t know the whole story, but I do know that Jordan was busy looking into Delilah while the rest of you kept on living in my home. And you, Raven, you actively avoided me.” Raven flinched. Her eyes closed so she did not see the smirk displayed on Clarke’s face but she heard it in Josephine’s tone, “It must be hard to hear me while you see the face of someone you despised enough to avoid. Now, they actually are asking you to save her.” 

“I didn’t hate her. I was angry and I…I didn’t hate her.”

“Well, you could have fooled me. Not that it matters, she’s dead and all you have is me.” Again, the difference between Josephine and Clarke blazed through as everything about her hardened and chilled, “And I’m going to make sure you regret ever getting involved in something you had no business.”

It grew still. All three of them unsure of how to proceed but all of them ready to fight, to burn it all, when Miller strolled in, “We found them. They were together actually, Diyoza and Octavia. They must have found each other. We are flying in their direction as we speak.” Not a soul acknowledged him until he said, “They aren’t alone.” 

Three heads shot toward him, Bellamy asked, “What do you mean?”

“There appears to be a third-person near the area. We aren’t sure if they are all together, but they are close enough in range for it to be an issue if they’re not.”

Josephine interrupted them, “Well, it looks like you’ll meet the Children of Gabriel much faster than you thought. Good luck.”

Murphy narrowed in on her, “Ryker said we need them to get Clarke back.”

“And like I said, Ryker is an idiot. If you think they are going to let this body live, you’re wrong. They want to destroy us and any possibility of us which includes any and all hosts.”

Miller’s steely demeaner remained as he stilled. No words could ever articulate the hatred raging underneath his skin. It boiled and bubbled right at the surface threatening to spill over and blaze through everything. He lost so much, and the thought of losing something else hurt. 

It hurt more when her blue eyes bore into him with indifference. Even when he arrested her, when he chained her, when he abandoned her, Clarke Griffin never looked at him with indifference. She never even looked at him with disdain. Her eyes always remained gentle and loving, a sea of calm. 

He turned to face Bellamy again, “We think they were already looking for the Children of Gabriel, so they may be able to speed up the process. Jordan and Emori say we’ll land in the next ten or so minutes. They just have to find a good spot.”

Bellamy nodded and Miller felt dismissed. With one more glance toward Josephine, he exited without much fanfare. Saying no extra words. Wasting no time. Leaving no room for mockery. 

A smirk again gracing her face, Josephine said, “I’ll make sure to paint all of you as a way to remember this moment.” 

Murphy, unimpressed and unfazed, snarked, “Yeah, well, maybe Clarke will draw you as a way to let you go. That way, we can burn you out of existence. I’m sure it will be fun.” 

Josephine’s snide comment froze them, “Well, I’m not sure whether to be alarmed at your need to kill me or to be turned on. I’m leaning toward turned on seeing as you are rather cute.” Blank faces stared at her, “What?” 

Nothing. Silence wormed its way back into the room. Tilted head, Josephine scanned her surrounding to measure everyone in the quiet. Every movement she made reminded them of how little of Clarke was left. This rather imitation of her dulled everything that made Clarke exceptional. 

Josephine, though smart and calculating, was nothing more than another villain in a long list of evildoers. Despite her best attempts, Josephine Lightbourne would never be extraordinary. 

Just then, Abby entered the room, “We landed. Echo and Miller both volunteered to go get them. We think one of you should go with them in case something goes wrong.” 

Murphy snapped, “I’ll go.” 

“Oh, come on, John! Don’t you want to stay with me?” 

One glance at Josephine’s toothy grin and Murphy railed in the need to run out the door, “Yeah, no, I’m not staying with you.” 

Josephine clicked her tongue and moved her head to tilt from the other side as to say his loss before she slid her eyes toward Bellamy to Abby and back. She settled for Raven. 

A single corner of her mouth lifted and her voice rasped, “Well, what do you think grease monkey? Should I be offended?” 

“Stop.”

The corner rose higher, “Stop? Stop what? I’m just trying to get laid here. Oh, oh! Consent is key! Ugh! You are all just like my dad. Clarke is dead, and yes, this was her body, but it’s mine now. So…I can do whatever I want with it.”

“Stop!”

Rolling her head back in pure annoyance, Josephine barked, “Get off your damn high horse, Reyes. You think you’re better than me than the primes but you’re not. I heard the stories. Raven Reyes can make anything go boom. I am certain you’ve killed more people than I have. I just don’t run from it.”

Her smile came from both sides of her lips, “I’m done with humanity. It’s weak and small and short. And, let’s not forget boring. Besides, the only reason you think you’ve kept your humanity and your pride and whatever else your self-righteous ass thinks you have, it’s because of this badass bitch I’m wearing. She’s smarter than you and better than you and she’s super hot. And without her, you won’t be able to do whatever plan you think you have to get her back.”

Silence. Just silence greeted them as Josephine cackled and taunted them with a truth everyone knew but no one wanted to admit. “She’s always been the brains, the one with the plan that always works because she listens and cares and I don’t know what. But, she’s dead now. Sucks to suck.”

Abby swallowed. Fisting, she eased her anger down her throat. It was not her daughter’s voice. It was someone else. Her words were never so unfeeling. 

She was to say something when Josephine began to moan, “God, my head kills.” Everything blurred and tasted like rust. Black blood spurted from her mouth before her eyes rolled to the back of her head. 

Abby sprinted toward her catching her as she convulsed, “Raven, go get Jackson. Bellamy, hold her head.”

She shook and shook. Blood covered the lower half of her face. Jackson burst through the doors with his medical kit.   
Bellamy stroke her hair as he waited for more instruction. As soon as the seizures slowed, he lifted her and took her to the makeshift medical bay. She would convulse again and then they would stop and start again. Again, over and over. He could not bring himself to leave despite knowing he was in the way. 

There Abby and Jackson scurried around him as he stared at her. Between the two of them, they calmed the seizures. Still, darkness took her and there was no way of knowing if they were ever getting her back.

\---

Clarke attempted to fight for as long as she could. 

Seeing all of her nightmares consecutively trapped her, paralyzed her in a way very much new to her. She never had much difficulty thinking ahead of her enemies, not after Lexa’s betrayal at Mount Weather. Never again would she be left at the mercy of others because she was too trusting, too naïve to understand the rules of war. 

Wells was always the better chess player, but she was always a quicker study.

Now, she needed to learn faster than ever before. This was her space. This was her mind. She knew that now. It took her a while to see it. 

The pain slowed her, but eventually, she recognized the patterns. How guilt brought her back to Mount Weather. How hopelessness brought her back to the wasteland. How loneliness brought her back to chains and a dark room. 

She would do it all differently now, and this nightmare would never let her. 

Everything trembled as she attempted to control her breathing. Her lips quivered as air passed her mouth and her nostrils flared with each breath out. She squeezed her fist and wrinkled her forehead willing for it all to stop.

Despite all the pain, she escaped the worst of her fears. She placed them deep in her mind, a place even she forgot existed. 

She quickly turned to see the metal door in the corner. It resembled many a door from the ark, but she knew this one led to the beginning. It led to the time before everything, the thing that started it all. Her cell door stopped all of her nightmares from invading her mind in the same manner in which they barricaded her from all her loved ones back on the ark. 

She turned away from the door and concentrated on her breathing again. 

It seemed to numb her to the agony of her existence until something catapulted into her. It was a force of pure anger.

“Why couldn’t you just die!” 

Clarke finally peaked through the jumbled limbs to see the face of a pretty blonde. Josephine struggled on top of her attempting to kill. 

Clarke remembered Anya in all her fierce glory. With that memory, she grabbed both Josephine’s wrist and moved her head forwarded. The momentum pushed Josephine back allowing for Clarke to shimmy under her and kick her even further back. 

Nose bloody, Josephine stumbled up and raged forward. Clarke blocked her wrapping her arm around her neck. She kneed her one, two, three, four times before releasing her and punching her in the face. Josephine twisted to the right. 

Heaving, Clarke said, “You should know that I’m not much of a fighter, but if I’m going down, I’m going to make it hurt.” 

Spitting out blood, Josephine gave a dry chuckle, “We both don’t get to play with this body. It will die. It is technically dying. And if I don’t get it, I’ll make sure it does. I’ll just get backed up by my mind drive, and you’ll just disappear like the insignificant thing you are.” 

“A lot of people, a lot of the things have tried to kill me, but I’m still here and a lot of them aren’t. What makes you think you’re any different?” 

Her teeth were white when she said, “I’m worshipped like a god. What are you?” 

“I’m the person kicking your ass.” 

Chortle in the air, Josephine slanted her head and placed a hand on her hips, “Really, well then, let’s see what you do when I open that door.”

“Josephine…”

Twirling her hair, she sneered, “What, I have decades on you. I know exactly how this works, and you while impressive, still have so much to learn.” 

Those words rang and the metal door appeared next to Josephine. She opened it, and everything burned. The death waved came for them. Then, it was just a tall post with a knife. Then, it was an empty throne. Everything whizzed passed them until it all became a blurry mess of memories.

There was more. More things she packed away. Secrets she never uttered. Moments she wanted to ignore. 

As they invaded the space, Clarke collided into her straight to the ground. They wrestled. She remembered what her father told her. She remembered what Monty asked of her. She remembered all of them. Most importantly, she remembered the loss and pain and blood she wanted to forget. 

All of these memories gave her the strength for one last punch. 

Standing, she saw Josephine’s face all bloody and beaten. Relief settled into her belly but it did not last as Josephine’s body evaporated. She took everything with her. All Clarke has left was the brightness of white around her and the metal door. 

She spun attempting to find something that could answer her questions. Nothing surrounded her, but the door. 

Time moved differently her, so she was unsure how much time passed when someone came forward. 

Startled, her breath hitched and her heart hammered in her chest until she saw the figure’s face much more clearly. Tears swelled in her eyes and she nearly lost her balance. Instead, she simply whispered his name. 

Her voice watery and uneven uttered, “Wells.”

A smile broke on his face and his tone light, he laughed, “Clarke, you never did make anything easy. Still, worth it.” 

She choked on a laugh and rammed into him for a hug. 

He continued, “I don’t have much time, but you need to be careful. She’s going to come back.”

“Wells, please…I…”

He held her by her upper arms and looked directly in her eyes. His smile showed a gently love, “I want to spend time here with you, but you can’t. You can’t waste it. You have to be ready.”

“Be ready for what?”

“Josephine. She’s not going to stop, not with you. You can’t let her win.” 

“Wells, I can’t. I don’t know how, and I’m stuck here.”

“Clarke Griffin has never been stuck anywhere. You’re smarter than that. You are stronger than that. Josephine Lightbourne has nothing on you.” He ended it with a breathy chuckle. 

She shook her head and reached out to touch him more, “I missed you. We never really had a chance. And you’re here and not there. Maybe this was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be you and me. And now it can be.”

“Clarke…”

Shaking free, she lifted her arms and spewed, “They won, Wells! They won. She already won. I’m stuck in my own head living the worst parts of life over and over again. All of these mistakes I wish I could just let go. But, I can’t. They took my body and all I have is my mind. And, I’m not you. You would have done things so differently. You would have been so much better.” 

“Clarke, you can’t…” 

“I can’t what…give up. There is nothing left. You heard her. I’m dying! She won. I lost this time. Please let me go with you here. I wasn’t there for you, and maybe this too much to ask, but please be there for me.” 

Shaking his head, Wells said, “No…I remember when my dad was teaching us how to play chess. You hated how I always beat you. You couldn’t have that, so we kept playing until you won. And you kept winning. I rarely beat you again. You lost, Clarke. You lost a lot, but this is it. This is your turning point. You have to keep going. You have to get up and win.”

Much like Josephine before him, he evaporated leaving her alone. A knot in her chest, she moved her chin upward with her eyes closed. Tears in the corner of her eyes freed themselves as she blinked. 

Echoes of Wells’ last words sang in her mind and a squeak of a door grabbed her attention. Unafraid, she ambled her way toward the metal door and walked right through it. 

\---

Xavier grew tired of the suspicious looks thrown his way. He was working on Clarke the way they asked, but their expressions caused him to stumble. His nerves were already elevated, and the impatience vibrating in the room did not help. 

Madi tucked herself into Clarke’s eerily still arm as Abby loomed not too far from them. Jackson stood near medical equipment attempting to appear busy, while Bellamy switched between an intimidating pace and a brooding stare from the corner. Xavier insisted everyone else wait outside. He wanted everyone to wait outside, but he knew he needed medical expertise and the other two simply would not be moved. 

Bellamy huffed, “Why isn’t she waking up?” 

Xavier wiped his hands and stood up, “I can’t give you much here. They’ve never brought anyone back. All we can do is wait.” 

And wait they did for hours until Clarke’s eyes fluttered open and she groaned. 

All the voices melded together all saying a variation of her name. They boomed and overwhelmed her in the worst possible way. 

Clarke moaned again moving her hands to her face. She attempted to cover her ears to keep them from ringing, but the lights also hurt her eyes. She could not make up her mind what to protect. Instead, she groaned some more and blinked as her eyes adjusted. She pushed herself up saying, “Can you all stop yelling? My head kills.” 

A commotion erupted and chaos ensued. Clarke remembered nothing as bodies weaved in and out, as lips moved up and down. Time passed and she experienced it all in a fog. They asked questions and she gave them as much as she could. 

Eventually, they hurried themselves out to give her quiet. As the door shut, it crashed into her. She scurried away from the emptiness of being alone, away from the voices in her head telling her she deserved it and the faces she left there tempting her with something she could never have.

She scurried away just to find more voices speaking. 

“So, it’s his fault we are in this mess in the first place.” 

“Murphy…” 

“What! You saw the video. Gabriel created the primes, and yeah, he changed his mind, but that doesn’t negate the other thing. It’s still a fact. He cheated death, and Clarke paid for it with her life.” 

“She’s alive in the other room. Besides, he also saved her.” 

“Doesn’t mean he should get rewarded with Josephine’s mind drive, Diyoza.” 

“Doesn’t mean we should just dismiss it, Reyes.” 

“He lied about who he was and now he just wants to keep her.” 

“Madi, it’s not that simple.” 

“Yes, it is. Josephine tried to kill Clarke. We kill her.” 

Having heard enough, Clarke stepped in, “No, we don’t. Kill Josephine that is. Not if we want to be better, and we owe it to Monty, to Harper, to everyone we left on Earth to be better.” 

They all peered at her, but Madi was the one that spoke, “No! She should die for what she did, and she will. Who are you to stop me?” 

Clarke shook her head, “We don’t kill for revenge. We don’t just waste life like that, and if you can’t see the difference, you shouldn’t be making these choices.” 

“I’m the commander.” 

Straightening herself, Clarke marched toward her daughter, “Not right now, you’re not.” She turned to look at Xavier (Gabriel she corrected herself) and stepped toward him, “You don’t have to do it. I know what it’s like to kill someone you love for something like this. It will break you.” She reached him and covered his hand with hers, the one holding Josephine, “You have enough guilt on your conscience. Don’t add to it for me. I’m not worth it.” 

Gabriel’s mouth gaped open as he saw this woman for the first time. She stood small and shattered from her time living, not just in the mind space with Josephine, but just living the life whatever higher being gave her. She was nothing like Josephine, but her blond hair begged to be touched. Despite knowing the difference, Gabriel’s hands ached to feel Josephine beyond the piece of technology. 

She was in this body, in Clarke. For a brief moment of her story, it was written with these hands and that voice. It breathed through those lips and lived in that soft blond hair.

He reached for her, and she allowed for his fingertips to graze her cheek. 

A half-smile came and went before she slipped away from him, from them all peeking back at them only briefly. But it was not at Gabriel, her gaze lingered on Bellamy as she closed the door behind her. 

\---

They worried about her. 

After Clarke’s reappearance at the meeting declaring they should allow Josephine to live, she kept to herself. No one truly saw her least of all Raven who actively avoided her. 

At this moment, Raven marched running a list of things she needed to do to be able to build a compound for them. Another red sun was approaching, and by the sound of it, they needed to find a way to survive it. 

Blending into the corner, Clarke sat with her chin resting on her left knee. Eyes glazed over, her stillness sent chills down Raven’s spine. Goosebumps covered her. 

Halting her steps, Raven debated on turning back before she said, “Clarke.” Nothing. “Clarke, you okay?” Nothing again, Raven sighed and step forward. Hand on Clarke’s shoulder, she repeated, “Clarke, you okay?” 

Clarke jerked away from Raven’s touch springing to her feet and hitting her back against the wall. Immediately registering Raven, her labored breathing barely allowed a puffed apology. The tingling lingered over her body and paced into a numbness. 

Clarke forgot to breathe. So absorbed in herself, Clarke did not notice Raven sprinting into action. She did not notice the crowd gathering. She did not notice the voices of concern or the voices of disinterest. She did not notice Gabriel scolding them to get back or the hesitation on certain faces. 

She did notice the feeling of a palm reaching her shoulder. 

Snapping her eyes, she saw Gabriel’s face. Kind. Worried. He appeared to be breathing slowly for her benefit. He looked beautiful in the haze, but she hated the pity. No one needed to hold her hand. She knew how to do it on her own. 

Alone. It greeted her like a mother cradling her baby, wishing her well while choking it to death. Loneliness felt familiar in a dangerous way. 

Words strung together and vaguely resembled sentences. 

Clarke caught her breath long enough to spew, “Give me a minute.” 

Gabriel sighed, “Clarke, you are exhibiting classic signs of PTSD. This is a panic attack, and it’s completely normal. You just have to breathe.” 

Glaring, Clarke fisted until her knuckles turned white, “It’s not panic.” Breath. “I just…” Breath. “…need a minute.” 

“Clarke. Did Josephine open the door?” 

Bellamy wrangled himself to the front, “What are you saying?” 

“If Josephine opened the door, it could get worse.” 

Straining, she managed to yell, “I need a minute!” Jagged breaths turned to regulated breaths, “I stood outside in toxic air that would kill a normal person in seconds. I was out there for minutes. Becca wasn’t a god. She was a scientist, and we didn’t really know what we were doing when we made nightblood. We did a good job, and I’m proof of that, but I stood outside with a big fiery death wave coming right at me and breathing in radiation. My lungs are permanently damaged. It took me months to breathe normally afterwards, so please give me a minute.” 

She meant for it to end there, but something gave her the strength to keep going. It bubbled in her and spilt over. It was scorching, “I saw my only hope fly out, but I couldn’t panic because I had a job to do. I needed to finish that job or no one was going to make it. So, I finished it, and then I ran. I ran, because no matter how much I knew it was useless, I have been running for so long it was automatic. I didn’t think. I just ran. And, then I blacked out, and I dug myself out. I dug the rover out. I…I…I kept looking for something. And there was nothing. It was just nothing and more nothing. I was hungry and thirsty and I didn’t sleep. But, none of that matter, because everywhere I looked it was just a bunch of dead things. And I should have been one, but I wasn’t and I…” 

Holding her still, Gabriel rubbed his thumb on her upper arm as a form of comfort, “Clarke, did Josephine open the door?” 

Face wet, Clarke nodded and whispered in all her brokenness, “Yes.” 

Gabriel’s tight smile left her wanting something else, someone else. It brought her back to another time when death knocked on her door and another man gifted her a weak smile. It created a warmth in her toes all the way up to her cheeks. A smile like no other. 

Whatever Gabriel lack, he made up for in knowledge, “The door leads to the worst memories…the things that cause us the most pain. Clarke, I need you to understand that Josephine manipulated you by opening that door and having you relive this memory over. It’s okay to be upset.” 

Forehead wrinkled, she gasped, “You think this the worst memory. I keep seeing their faces. I keep hearing how disappointed everyone is. I made choices I’m not proud of, but I…I thought I knew why. It’s so hard, but they look at me like I have some answer and when I don’t people die. I’m the bad guy because someone always dies. No one has been living more on borrowed time than me except maybe you. I should have ended it. No one would have known the difference.” 

“Clarke…” 

She was small. She inherited it from her mother, her stature. But she was never small. Even before she accepted the responsibility of leadership, her intelligence, her eagerness caused her to inhabit more space that she physically required. 

Now, she was small and smashed, a mere fragment of the woman she was.

So, when she moved her gaze to the people at the root, it shattered them too, “I’m tired, so please can I have a minute?” 

She slipped down Gabriel’s arms and out of consciousness. 

\---

The door clicked behind her as Abby returned to them all. 

She said, “She should be okay. Her brain scans came back a little abnormal, but nothing life-threatening. She should wake up soon.” 

Silence settled itself. No one was willing or ready to break it. No one knew what to say. 

Clarke Griffin was a lot of things, but what they had just witnessed was not one of them. She stood tall and firm and steady. She was always such a constant pillar of strength. They looked to her because she rarely wavered in her defence of them. It was why it hurt to see her on the other side of an unnecessary war. 

Who was she if not their greatest protector? Who were they if not her people? 

If she was just another human attempting to do what is right, then nothing made sense. This picture they conjured hung all wrong. It favored the left and was off-center. The frame needed to be dusted and the colors needed to be restored. 

The details were lost in the muck created by time. 

One by one, they all left the room to return to the long list of items left to accomplish. Survival was still their number one priority. One by one, they escaped the guilt with busyness until Bellamy and Raven were left. 

Raven glanced at him and exhaled, “Did she ever tell you? About what happened to her in those six years? Because I never even thought to ask.” 

Shaking his head, he maneuvered himself to be closer to the window staring down at the moon below, “I asked once, but no…she never told me.” 

“I think I forgot…that she is a person with feelings. I think I got so used to her being this monument of…god, I don’t know. They gave her name, the grounders. Wenheda. It made it easier to forget that she is Clarke Griffin, a person who lost just as much as we did.” 

She stood behind him staring at the same scene, a mocking parallel to a beginning so many years ago. Both of them ready to make a similar vow now. 

“So, let’s remember. Let’s not forget anymore. She almost died again, and we almost didn’t notice. I can’t let that happen. We can’t let that happen.” 

Raven smirked, “She stopped us from doing stupid today. She’s probably the only one Gabriel actually likes. I hate that she has that effect.” 

Straightening, Bellamy countered, “Yeah, and because of Clarke, we can help him. What they are doing…it’s wrong. We have to stop them. Clarke’s going to agree, so are you with me.” 

“Always.”

**Author's Note:**

> Please follow me on Tumbler at BookwormyThings!


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